The Shore

There comes a season when more is no longer needed.
Not another possession.
Not another answer.
Only the willingness to release what no longer belongs.

After 100 years—something I forgot to remember.

Journal notations, midnight to dawn.
I close the book.
Ink is dry; pen’s nib worn.
Nothing revealed—
only the sound of paper, the scent of ink.

No sea breeze at dawn.
Ocean waves, restless.
I step into mist.

Cold clamminess greets me.

The old crow flies into the forest.
Gulls, hundreds, fly inland.
An osprey glides to a hidden nest.
Sandpipers huddle in hollows.

Not dawn.
A half-light spreads across
an endless ocean—
swollen, roiling.

A windstorm, the windstorm
draws near.

Tea brewed.
Fire stoked.
Both hands embrace the steaming mug.

It sits in my bones.
Fear.

Winds reach the shore.
They whip around the cottage.
The door breaks open—
a dark gyre.

I walk into the turbulence.
It holds no pity, nor wrath.

I stand firm.

yes,
it is time.

The unrest calms.

I look for something I need—
shears.

The long braid
is held in my hand.
The shears close—
releasing tethers.
More.

A woven tunic. One shawl.
A door closes.

what remains…
the shore.

Empty.
No cottage.
A thatch hut.

Seasons of red sunsets unfold.
A driftwood staff,
twilight’s long shadow—
a bent body’s measured pace.

Walking the edges of land and water,
my footprint pauses:
A cairn is built.

I choose small things, too:
Bones, one eagle feather, shells.
I wear them…
What was.
What is.

Nighttime.
A bonfire.

Stringing the last bone,
a precious life once lived.

I listen to waves
turn back
to ocean’s breath.

Dawn.
The fire’s embers remain.
I lay the driftwood staff on them.

Standing, I loosen the worn tunic—
now in sand.

The bone and feather necklace
is returned on an endless ocean wave.

thank you

Breathing with all that exists,
I walk—
to the edges of the world.

Naked.
A half smile.

And the red-tailed hawk wheels above.

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About the Art

Title: ‘The Reckoning’
Copyright: 2026 (Photography/Wax & Oil Painting)
Artist: Lee Anne Morgan